All They Could Do
by Trisa Slyne
Summary: Rick fights off insanity as the one thing that could push him over the edge happens. Set at the end of Too Far Gone. Very short, one shot.


_Author's Note: I do not own The Walking Dead. _

**All They Could Do**

A few shots rang out in the distance, followed by screams, then relative silence. The only sounds left were the moans of Walkers as they filtered slowly into the now defenseless prison. Pain shot up Rick's leg as it did for every step he had taken since he had gotten shot. His ribs and face were bruised and ached as well. He could not help but think about who had given him such pain and destroyed his sanctuary. The Governor. If he had just been willing to compromise, they could have all lived in that prison safely, if unhappily. But as he leaned on Carl for support, he was reminded to think in the now, not the past.

Rick could not see any survivors lingering around, so he had to assume everyone had fled already. As Carl and Rick passed bodies being devoured, Rick felt a tug on his thoughts. Had everyone gotten out? He hoped no one was hiding out in the prison… But he pushed those thoughts away. Judith. Judith was all that mattered. They had to make sure she had not been left behind.

The sun was low in the sky and he calculated they only had an hour until sundown. An hour to find Judith, escape, and secure a place for the night. But they could only do all that if he started to pull his own weight. He glanced at Carl, a mix of feelings racing through him. Relief that his son had found him but distress that Carl had not been safely on the escape bus… and fear. Fear that he would slow them down and get his children killed.

As they neared the prison, they noticed Judith's carrier sitting on the ground facing away from them. A dead weight settled in his stomach. The escape plan they had created in case of an attack had been for the younger girls to grab Judith and run to the bus. It seemed they had gotten at least half-way there, but what had happened? How long had Judith been sitting there by herself, completely defenseless?

Rick and Carl slowed their already-slow progress as they approached the baby carrier. The empty, bloody, baby carrier. Both their mouths hung open as they stared, dumbstruck, unable to accept what they were seeing. Blood. Blood where Judith's head would have rested. Blood where she would have sat.

Tears came and Rick was crying but not crying. He tried to say "It's not possible," but instead strange, inhuman noises tore out of his throat.

Rick could almost see how it had happened. Saw his little baby girl sitting happily in her carrier, unaware that the creatures coming toward her would ever do her any harm. Could see the Walkers converging upon her, biting and tearing her to pieces as she shrieked and screamed and…

The entire world tilted and he could see her aging before his eyes into the child, the girl, the woman she would never be… she would have looked like her mother. Rick felt the insanity creeping up on him once more. The insanity he had narrowly escaped after… after…

Lori.

The ache deepened. Rick bent over, more wounded noises escaping him. He barely registered when Carl moved out from under him. All he could think was that he had failed Lori. He had not been able to protect her child that she had died bringing into this world. He could feel her disappointed presence lingering on the edge of his sanity and the world blurred. He was standing at the edge. Whispered voices called out to him from the fog. Loved ones long dead and recently dead. Lori. Always Lori.

Rick felt a sick sense of hope. He would see Lori again.

Gunshots pierced the fog. Rick turned and saw Carl shooting a shotgun at some Walkers. He hit his mark each time, but he was shooting randomly, not even really aiming at the ones closest, just at any Walker in general. Rick felt a grim sense of purpose settle upon him and the voices faded back into the dark recesses of his mind: Carl needed him.

"Carl," Rick called. Then, more insistent, "_Carl_." Rick hobbled over to Carl and clasped him from behind tightly, holding his son's arms down and crushing them together, anchoring them both in reality.

Carl struggled against him. Rick knew Carl wanted to keep killing Walkers: to avenge Judith, to feel like he was doing something useful, to regain control, to make the pain go away. But Rick held on tight until Carl stopped struggling and bent forward, sobs escaping his own throat now. Rick felt tears well up again, but he held himself back. They had to live. They had to.

"We gotta go," Rick said, his voice thick. There was nothing they could do. He glanced one last time at Judith's carrier. They had failed her. They would have to live with that for the rest of their lives. But they would have to live. He looked around them, at their desolated home. "It's over."

Slowly, he guided Carl away. They walked as fast as they could with his limp. As they neared the edge of the woods, Carl moved to gaze once more upon the prison that had been their home.

Rick felt panic grip him, as if one more look back would break them completely.

"Don't look back, Carl," Rick said, urgency in his voice. "Keep walking."

It was all they could do.


End file.
